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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824768">It Doesn't Get Better Than This</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetolkiengeek/pseuds/thetolkiengeek'>thetolkiengeek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abandoned WIPs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bartender Keith (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Keith as Paige, Lance as Eddie, Lance is a playboy, M/M, Slow Burn, Texan Keith (Voltron), The Prince and Me AU, Un-betad, this will remain unfinished</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetolkiengeek/pseuds/thetolkiengeek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance, or as he was better known, Prince Lorenzo Esteban Osvaldo, was crown prince of the island paradise known as Altea. He spoke seven languages, had private tutors, and everything he could ask for, including a bad attitude. He never asked to be the crown prince, never wanted it, so when he saw his chance to get out and see the world, he took it. Only problem was, he landed himself in the middle of Texas.</p>
<p>Keith, on the other hand, was a student working his way through college, keeping his head down and minding his own business. He was happy doing work and school and not much else, but then he gets saddled with a lazy lab partner for a class he absolutely needs to graduate, and he's failing Spanish. </p>
<p>Fortunately, for Lance and Keith both, they find that their differences are not quite as dire as they seemed to be.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Or, the Prince and Me AU</p>
<p>UNFINISHED, ABANDONED</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abandoned WIPs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, this is the first in a series of unfinished WIPs that have been sitting in my folder for far too long. I've got a lot written for this AU, and while I have no more motivation to finish it, it seemed a shame to let it languish unread.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: this is unedited, unbeta'd, and I will not be returning to finish this. The second chapter is the rest of my outline for how it would have gone. If that's not your cup of tea, no worries! Otherwise, happy reading &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>To say that Prince Lorenzo Estebán Osvaldo was an adventurous sort was perhaps the understatement of the century. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Prince Lorenzo, or Lance to his family, was famous mostly for his indiscretion. His adolescence and young adulthood was characterized by scandal after scandal, newspapers printing gossip columns about Lance’s latest lover or his latest impromptu street race. These were topics of conversation at all manner of breakfast tables across the tiny Caribbean country of Altea, and Lance’s was no exception.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance tried not to wince at the sound of a newspaper hitting the mahogany table as his sister slapped down a copy of one of the major tabloids. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“A duke of Denmark, really, Lance?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What?” Lance shrugged, continuing to butter his toast without looking up. “He was hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“And according to the royal family, very straight,” Veronica said, and Lance didn’t have to look at his sister to know she was pinching the bridge of her nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance laughed. “Yeah, no straight man knows how to do what he did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lance…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance looked up to see his sister pull out a chair and sit down next to him, and though exhaustion was clearly written on her face, her posture was as perfect as ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lance, I know you’re out and publicly bisexual and everything, but not everybody else is. You’ve got to be more discreet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance rolled his eyes and spoke his next words around a mouthful of bread. “I bet you’d never say that if I were straight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica threw him a distinctly unimpressed look. “I meant about </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> your flings,” she said, pointing at another picture of Lance poorly hidden behind a plant, making out with none other than Nyma, a senator’s daughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance gave a long-suffering sigh, throwing his toast down, suddenly no longer hungry. “Unclench, Ronnie. I’m always safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Not what I’m worried about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Then I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Lance whined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica tapped at the table with a perfectly manicured finger. Everything about Veronica was perfectly manicured, from her cleanly cropped haircut to the unblemished skin, to the carefully chosen outfit that screamed “respectability.” There wasn’t a hair out of place, not even a smudge on her glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lance, you’re the crown prince. You can’t just run around doing whatever you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance groaned, throwing his head back. “I don’t understand why it has to be me. I’m not even the oldest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica gave a sigh that betrayed just how many times they’d had the conversation. “Because, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lorenzo Estabán Osvaldo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you’re the oldest </span>
  <em>
    <span>legitimate</span>
  </em>
  <span> heir. You know step siblings can’t ascend the throne.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance just groaned again, covering his face with his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“All I do is race cars and make out with a handful of diplomats. I really don’t understand why that’s an issue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica flicked him in the forehead. “Exactly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>imbécil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s all you do. You’re supposed to go to advisor meetings, open parliament sessions, and cut ribbons for important research facilities. Like it or not, you’ve got duties.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“More like doo-ties.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica didn’t even crack a smile, her beautiful angular face just as unimpressed as always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“There was a time when you would have laughed at that,” Lance muttered, returning to his breakfast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“There was a time when you actually cared what happened in this country.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance threw down his fork, fixing Veronica with a glare. “That’s unfair and you know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Then prove it. Go to the meeting with Dad today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance worked his jaw, narrowing his eyes at his sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll go. Happy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Veronica gave him a sarcastic smile. “Ecstatic. Now off with you,” she said, making shoo-ing motions with her hands. “The meeting started two minutes ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>¡Mierda!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Lance swore, scrambling up from the table and rushing to the door. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermana del demonio, pequeña malipuladora</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I heard that!” Veronica called, and Lance glanced back in time to see her stealing the rest of his toast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You were supposed to!” Lance called back before turning and running down the hall. Oh man, his dad was going to have his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance burst into the meeting hall seven minutes late and very out of breath, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the members of the advisory board, if the way they were glaring at Lance like they were trying to vaporize him on the spot was any indication. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“His Royal Highness, Prince Lorenzo Estabán Osvaldo!” came the announcement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance straightened his jacket as best he could, smoothing out his lapels, before moving smoothly into his seat to the right of his father, the king, who was seated at the head of the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Prince Lorenzo,” his dad said calmly, nodding his head in a practiced motion. “How wonderful that you’ve decided to join us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance didn’t miss the storm of judgment behind his dad’s eyes, but he accepted this as graciously as he could. “Of course, Father. I wouldn’t miss such an important meeting about…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance scrambled to open his folder, realizing too late that he had absolutely no clue what they were supposed to be discussing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“...sales tax.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Someone coughed awkwardly, but otherwise the table was silent. Lance didn’t dare break his father’s stern gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Indeed,” he said finally, turning back to the rest of the table. “Now, as we were discussing, we need to renegotiate a proper tax in order to make the local vendors happy without sacrificing potential tourist revenue…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Now, Lance had meant to pay attention, he really did. But as with every other meeting he went to, he zoned out almost immediately, grabbing a pen and doodling in the corner of the sheet that was supposed to be used for meeting notes, glancing up every once in a while to wink at Plaxum, one of the advisors in charge of coastal preservation. She had such a pretty blush, and Lance was fighting to contain his grin--.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“--o you think, Lance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hmm?” Lance said, blinking back into reality and realizing that the entire table had been staring at him...again. “Oh, um, what was the question?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>This time, many people at the table didn’t bother hiding their disdain, and the king gave a look that said “we’ll discuss this later.” Lance shuddered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Perhaps if you are not going to pay attention, you would do better with your time spent elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance gulped, but nodded sheepishly. “Yes, Father.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He pushed up from the table, grabbing his meeting notes and mustering up the tattered remains of his dignity to shuffle out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The door shut with quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> but to Lance, it was the loudest thing he had ever heard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Huuuunk!” Lance whined, collapsing on one of the many chaises in his room. “It was a complete disaster! I can’t believe I let her convince me to do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well,” Hunk said, moving a footstool in front of Lance, who promptly lifted his legs to accommodate it, setting his feet down. “Did you actually pay attention this time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance pouted, looking away from his valet. In truth, Hunk was more of a confidant and a friend rather than a valet at this point, but try as he might, Lance could never get Hunk to stop doting on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“...I tried, okay?!” Lance said after a moment, refusing to meet Hunk’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Judgment from his siblings he could deal with, easily. Hunk’s judgment, however, was a different beast entirely, and nothing made Lance feel worse than disappointing Hunk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You’re the crown prince, you know you’re going to have to run these meetings someday, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just...I don’t get why I have to do this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be ascending the throne anytime soon. Why can’t I just be a kid for a bit longer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Maybe because you’re twenty-three and in charge of an </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire country</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hunk said busying himself by ringing for Lance’s lunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“A small one,” Lance grumbled, pushing up from the chaise to sit at a side table near one of the large windows overlooking the bay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Despite his complaining, Lance really did love Altea. It was beautiful, a little bit of a forgotten paradise tucked away in the Caribbean. It was small enough that it wouldn’t have garnered much media attention except for the fact that they still had a monarchy, its autonomy left untouched by European disruptions. Most of the governmental power was held by parliament anyway, the royals acting largely as figureheads, but there were still specific obligations that made Lance dread the day he would be crowned king.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>But hopefully that was a long way off, and Lance would have plenty of time to drive his expensive cars and woo various foreign dignitaries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I know it seems like everyone’s hard on you, Lance,” Hunk said coming up next to him and, placing a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder, “but it’s only because we  want to see you succeed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Lance sighed. “I just want a chance to do something normal for once in my life, like get a tattoo or go to Disney World, or…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh no,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “No no no, I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that tone! That’s the terrible idea tone!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hey!” Lance said, indignant. “All of my ideas are fantastic, thank you very much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hunk shook his head. “Oh man, I do not have enough time in the world to go through how many bad ideas you’ve had. I’d have to go alphabetically starting with acrobatics lessons.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Please,” Lance said, rolling his eyes, “those were amazing, and I only got a little hurt. Besides, my idea is very responsible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance nodded. “I’m going to university.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hunk laughed, full-bellied and loud. “That’s a good one, Your Highness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance frowned as his friend wiped a mock tear from his face. “I wasn’t joking, Hunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Wait, seriously?” Hunk asked. “Lance, you’ve been privately tutored since you were in diapers. You speak six different languages fluently, can recite Shakespeare from memory, and know most major historical events all the way back to ancient Sumer. Not to mention your hobby fixing up cars. What on earth do you need to go to university for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“A normal life,” Lance said, “a chance to escape some of the pressure here, do the whole ‘discovering myself’ thing. Maybe even go to a few parties.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hunk gave him a pointed look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Okay, go to a lot of parties,” Lance admitted. “But I could get a degree in International Relations, it would be perfect!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hunk paused, and Lance could see him mulling it over in his mind. It really was a good idea, and Lance would stand by it. He’d look like he was being responsible and learning valuable skills, but really he’d get a break from learning how to run a country. It was a win-win.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, Hunk spoke, and though it was a question, Lance knew he had won him over. “Where would you even go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance grinned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Texas?!” his parents cried in unison, and Lance tried not to wince. Okay, so winning them over would be a bit trickier than he had anticipated, but he wasn’t going to let that discourage him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Why on earth would you want to go to Texas?” his mother asked, looking at Lance like he had grown a second head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well,” Lance said, taking a fortifying breath, “it is past time for a visit to America, and what better way to get to know a country than by going to its heartland? And there’s a well-respected university in Austin that has a good International Relations program, with a wealth of extra-curricular activities--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hunk coughed at this, and Lance tried not to pause to glare at his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“--and it will be a good experience to work with other people my age. I’ve already checked, and I can enter as a junior with my credits, and I’ll complete a dual-degree--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lorenzo,” Lance’s dad said, holding up a hand, stopping Lance’s rambling in its tracks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance’s jaw clicked shut, his spine snapping ramrod straight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lorenzo,” his dad repeated, “You’ve shown yourself to be irresponsible here. Why should we expect it to be any different in Texas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance’s gut churned. He didn’t really have a good answer for that. The truth was, he was probably going to be just as irresponsible, if not more so, without the constant scrutiny. But every time Lance thought about staying in Altea any longer, being forced to go to more and more meetings and open up sessions of parliament and bless children or whatever other princely duties his parents decided he needed to learn next, his chest tightened. He had to get out even if it was just for a little while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You know,” Veronica said from her reading chair in the corner, and Lance whipped his head around to look at his sister. She had a dangerous smile on her face, and Lance felt his heart climb up to his throat. She was up to something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think that might actually be a good idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance tried not to look too shocked, though he felt sort of like the seas should have parted, or the sun should have blacked out. Veronica didn’t agree with him, ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s step-mom nodded at Veronica to keep going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he should go...if he figures out how to pay for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mierda</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Lance couldn’t afford to go to school in the United States with those tuition prices. Though, he would be entering as a junior, and really he’d only need to figure out how to pay for two years…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The queen nodded, and Lance’s dad cocked his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lorenzo? Does this sound fair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance looked between his sister and his parents, but their faces were impassive, even Veronica looking deliberately blank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If...if you pay for the tuition, I can do everything else,” Lance said quietly but firmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s parents shared a glance, seeming to come to a decision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s acceptable,” Lance’s dad said finally. “With one more caveat. You need to bring Hunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance felt his grin break over his face. He was going to America. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Keith started his fourth and final year of undergrad, he thought the most challenging thing he would have to deal with would be getting into grad school. Somehow, though, the universe had other plans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith had grown up in a small town in west Texas, where you had to drive thirty minutes just to get to the bank, there was only one restaurant, and everyone pretty much kept to their own property. The most exciting thing in town was the gay couple who owned a farm about fifteen miles out, and that had gotten old ages ago. So when Keith actually left town for college, he thought that would be adventure enough and he could be left to his studies. That turned out not to be the case, especially considering he was friends with Pidge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Listen,” Pidge said stuffing fries in her mouth as she sat at the bar. “You need to get out more, do something fun for once in your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith rolled his eyes and busied himself by grabbing at the empty glasses left on the counter. “I have fun.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>Pidge scoffed, spraying bits half-masticated potatoes on the bartop, Keith glaring at her. “Driving around by yourself at midnight because you’re panicking about school isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I meant shit like, I dunno, going to ACL or getting laid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith tried not to choke on his own spit. “Dude!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Pidge reached across the bar to flick Keith in the forehead. “Oh don’t be such a prude, Sandra Dee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You’re concerningly invested in my nonexistent love life,” Keith muttered, rubbing at his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I may be ace, but you’re not, and it’s been forever since you’ve been fucked by anything other than your chemistry midterms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kathleen Paige Holt!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Pidge smirked. “It’s okay, Keith. We all know you’re a bottom, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith reached over to shove her off the stool, Pidge cackling as she toppled over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“One of these days, I’m going to stop hanging out with you,” Keith said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No you won’t,” Pidge said cheerily, climbing back to her perch and opening her computer. “You’d miss me too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Uh huh,” Keith said, pulling away her plate of fries and shoving a bowl full of peanuts towards her instead. Not taking her eyes off her screen, she reached in and popped a few in her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>She chewed for a moment, and then froze, turning slowly to Keith, her glasses glinting menacingly in the low light of the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Keith.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Kathleen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Keithleen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Did you just make me eat peanuts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith’s smile widened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Pidge lowered her glasses to glare at him. “You’re dead to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith laughed. “Does this mean you’ll stop bugging me about my love life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Will you finally stop studying at the expense of everything else in your life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Luckily for Keith, someone chose that moment to come up to the bar, tapping on the fake wood a little impatiently, and Keith took the opportunity to avoid answering Pidge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>To be honest, this was something Keith had been trying not to confront for a while now. He’d always been the sort to keep his head down and focus on his studies, ever since high school. At first, it was a defense mechanism, because if you were a nerd, most people wouldn’t bother with another label, but at this point it had  just become habit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was not to say that Keith was upset where his studies had gotten him--quite the opposite, actually. He knew exactly how far a good education could take you, and he wanted to make sure that everyone had the same opportunities to go farther, to be more. He wanted to pass on the luck he’d had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, in order to do that, he had to finish his degrees first. He’d gotten a substantial scholarship, but school was expensive, and despite it being Texas, Austin was still not a cheap place to live. Add to that the fact that he was going to try to stay an extra year to get his Masters, and it made it pretty clear why Keith was working a job at the one on-campus bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was kind of a quiet night, hence Pidge coming and hanging out, and the manager Allura had let the other student worker head home early. It was nice not to have to deal with small talk about a semester that hadn’t even started yet, but Keith was stuck running between the floor and the bar, bussing tables and keeping up with drink orders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when a stranger flagged him down, Keith felt more than a little frustrated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” he said, his voice with the barest hint of an accent but with a kind of haughtiness and clarity that made Keith’s defenses go up. “Could we see some menus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith frowned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Clearly this guy didn’t know how dive bars worked. “I’m not a waiter, there are no menus, and the kitchen’s closed.” He barely spared the guy another glance before walking off, though he noted that his friend at least had the decency to look a little uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The interaction was a little weird, but nothing Keith would have thought to remember later, and certainly by the time things were winding down, he had nearly forgotten it completely. But then the stranger sidled up to the bar, a slight smirk on his face, and Keith stiffened. His friend had been the one to get their drinks before, and he was pleasant enough and tipped well, but something about this other stranger put Keith on the defensive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, there was definitely an accent. It wasn’t so obvious that most people would notice, but there was just a small lilt, a slight rounding of the vowels, and Keith wasn’t too proud to admit that it was attractive. All of him was attractive, really, what with the smooth bronze skin and sparkling blue eyes and jawline so sharp it could cut glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But gracile movements and long legs weren’t enough to make Keith forget how rude he was. And that smirk, that self-assured way he carried himself, just screamed fuckboy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I get for you?” Keith asked through slightly gritted teeth. He was sure his smile seemed more like a grimace, but he’d promised Allura he would try to be a bit friendlier this year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually,” the stranger said, leaning forward a little bit over the bar, “I was hoping for something a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> better than what we’d been drinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. Wow, okay, this guy </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t know how dive bars worked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, for the discerning out-of-towner like yourself,” Keith said, sarcasm coloring his tone, “I’d recommend Michelob Ultra. You can really taste the extra forty cents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy leaned back, his spine straightening as any semblance of friendliness dropped from Keith’s countenance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, um, by all means…” he said, waving towards Keith.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Good lord, who did this guy think he was?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was a paying customer, and Keith needed the tips, so he grabbed a couple of glasses and headed to the tap a few feet to his right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barely a moment later, the stranger followed him, striding slowly to where Keith was, hand dragging slowly across the bartop. Keith didn’t miss the languid way his eyes roamed over Keith’s body, taking in the well-fitted black t-shirt and the slight muscle definition in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite it all, Keith had to fight to school his face into the passive nonchalance he’d been trying to keep up. Austin might have been in Texas, but especially close to the university, it was one of the more LGBT-friendly places in the state, and this wasn’t the first time a guy had tried to hit on him. Most of the time, he just brushed it off, but to be honest, Keith was kind of flattered. This guy really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>attractive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” he said, smirk falling back on his face though Keith noted it was softer this time, “if we were in Cuba right now, we’d be in a basement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s nose scrunched up. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In Spanish, Sótano means basement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s...nice?” Keith said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stranger huffed out a little sigh. “Guess I should’ve known better than to flirt in Spanish, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith gave a small smile at that. “Yeah, probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not exactly the most original, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really, no,” Keith said, handing over the beers, slightly mollified. Okay, this guy was charming, and the silence between them felt tense, but in a way that set Keith’s skin slightly buzzing. It had been a while since someone had so explicitly flirted with him, and even Keith could admit it felt nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Lance,” the stranger said finally, offering a hand across the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith surprised himself by taking it. Though the touch was brief, Keith could tell that this boy hadn’t worked a day in his life, his skin uncalloused and so at odds with Keith’s own farm-rough hands. “Keith.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Keith,” Lance said, leaning forward and smirking some more. “Does the mullet match the drapes?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was this boy actually serious right now? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on,” Lance purred, looking around. “I’m just curious. Your hairstyle is just a bit out of date, so there’s gotta be a reason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next thing Keith knew, he was pulling up the soda gun and pressing the button to spray high powered soda at Lance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bouncers were there in an instant, grabbing at Lance and trying to shove him outside. His friend had scrambled up, screaming “Don’t touch him!” but also started pushing Lance out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith smirked as he saw the astounded look on Lance’s face. Served him right, being a sleazeball like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith wiped some of the soda off the bartop before it dried, glaring at Pidge. “See why I don’t want you prying into my love life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean...he was kinda hot. Just your type, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pidge,” Keith said, brandishing the soda gun once more. “I will use this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge shrugged. “I’m just saying, hate sex is totally a thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. How he got saddled with an asexual who purported to know so much about sex, he wasn’t sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Keith consoled himself with the fact that he probably wouldn’t ever have to see Lance again. Austin was a big city, after all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As it turned out Austin was actually the smallest city ever, and Keith wanted to know exactly why the universe decided to screw him over </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When he walked into his chemistry lab, he was prepared for a difficult course. It was the last of his graduation requirements, but Keith had honestly been looking forward to the challenge. He had always been good at science, and though his psychology degree kept him occupied with readings, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss lab work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, that was before </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> walked into class, five minutes late, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>no backpack</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith hadn’t bothered to look up when the lab door opened, too busy playing with the molecule model the professor had been passing around, but his head snapped up when he heard that voice, with that infuriatingly beautiful soft accent, interrupting the welcome speech. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe I’m enrolled in this class?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please let this be a fever dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Keith pleaded to whatever deity was listening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there Lance was, standing at the front of the lab, handing his phone over to the professor, who took one look and nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It appears so, Mr. McClain,” he said coldly. “Take a seat, and we can get back to discussing the syllabus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance looked around the lab, and Keith was suddenly filled with dread as he realized that the only empty seat was at his lab station. Lance wove his way through towards his seat, plopping down and tapping at the table. Each drum of his fingers against the lab table making Keith twitch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I was saying, your supply list is on your syllabus,” the professor continued. “Now, I want you to introduce yourself to the person next to you. Congratulations, you just said hello to your permanent lab partner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Keith said. “Nope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance gave him a sheepish smile. “Hi?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance booked it out of the classroom as soon as class was over, and Keith was ready to kill him. Being in the same course would have been bad enough, especially considering that he didn’t even know Lance went to UT, but the universe really had to shit all over him and saddle him with the worst lab partner in existence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Keith called as he chased after Lance. “You forgot your supply list!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance turned around, gesturing to his friend to take the syllabus that Keith was holding out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you,” he said a little distantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen,” Keith said, taking a breath. “Lance, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen Lance, this class is really important to me. I need it to graduate, so if I’m stuck with you as my lab partner, I’m gonna need you not to screw this up for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance squinted at Keith. “Yeah, well, this class is important to me too. I love general chemistry…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith raised a skeptical eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, maybe not love it, but I’ve recently learned that mixing alcohol with a carbon-based life form causes that life from to, you know, blurt out things he may not have meant, so...my sincerest apologies for the other night. I was just having some fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith snorted. “Yeah, and I like being made to feel objectified when I’m at work. Thanks for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Te pido perdón formalmente. De verdad lo siento.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you...speaking Spanish?” Keith turned to Lance’s friend. “Is he still drunk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Lance blurted. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and that was the sincerest way I knew how.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith shook his head slowly. He’d met a lot of weirdos in his life--living in rural Texas would do that--but never one quite like this. “O-kay…well, just don’t forget your half of the supplies next time and we won’t have a problem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance did something that looked like a small bow, and Keith just rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is going to be a fun semester,” he muttered before turning around and calling behind him. “Don’t fuck this up for me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith was just glad that he didn’t have to think about him outside of class. He didn’t deserve any more of his energy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, you’d think spraying someone with high-pressure soda would give them the message to stay the fuck away,” Keith said that afternoon as he and Pidge were watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ancient Aliens</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “But no, he had to go and be my fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>lab partner</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, just admit you’re angry that he’s hot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hot?!” Keith said, nose scrunching up. “Pidge, he’s so pretentious. He doesn’t even have a backpack. He just makes his friend carry all his stuff like he’s some kind of royalty or something. He apologized to me </span>
  <em>
    <span>in Spanish</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like that was supposed to make me swoon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge reached into her bag of Doritos and shoveled a few in her mouth, barely looking away from where a guy was trying to convince the audience that they Mayans couldn’t understand math enough to build pyramids. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t take him up to the stacks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, ew. First of all, going at it while surrounded by moldy old books doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time. Second, you say that about every hot guy I talk to. Seriously, what’s your obsession with me and the stacks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you admit he’s hot?” Pidge asked, and though she was facing away from Keith, he could tell she was grinning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m done with this conversation,” Keith said, shoving her aside to get up from the couch. “I’m going to work on my problem set.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walked over to his desk, opening his laptop and pulling up the assignment. He stared blankly at the screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And another thing--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Keith!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Any hopes Keith had that Lance would turn out to actually be a good lab partner were dashed the very first session when Lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t even show up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Keith would have initially thought that would be preferable, it became clear that these experiments were not designed to be completed by one person. His mixture had overflowed halfway through the experiment when he had gone to grab the unknown salt from the other side of the classroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The professor had come up to him and gave a pitying sort of look, telling him to start over, and Keith had never felt so ashamed. He really needed this grade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was why he found himself marching into the dorms and pounding on the door labeled “McClain.” Of fucking course Lance had managed to get one of the few dorm rooms available, and although Keith was very happy with his living situation in his apartment he shared with Pidge, he added this to the list of things about Lance that pissed him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s friend opened the door, spatula in hand and apron on, and Keith was greeted with some kind of heavenly smell. But there was no time for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> is he?!” Keith asked, shouldering past him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hunk, is everything alright?” came Lance’s sleepy voice from his bunk bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes bugged out as he saw Lance start to stir.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re still in bed?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance yanked his headphones and eye mask off and shoved the blankets down, revealing a smooth, bare chest and a pair of sinfully short boxers, and Keith clenched his jaw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now I’m not,” Lance said, climbing down and standing right in front of Keith. “You want breakfast?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith growled. “Are you fucking serious right now? I just spent the last two hours looking like a complete idiot because my fucking lab partner didn’t show up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance yawned, stretching his arms overhead. “That was this morning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s hands shook, and his fists clenched. “Yes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance merely frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I know exactly who you are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do?” Lance asked, and Keith could have sworn he heard a note of apprehension. Good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re just a spoiled little rich kid who’s living off of Daddy’s trust fund.” Keith poked at Lance’s chest harshly. “You think college is just some kind of party, a detour on the way to an easy life. You have no sense of responsibility or obligation. To anyone who knows you, you’re just a royal pain in the ass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you know what?” Keith continued, getting more and more heated. “I’m still going to be better than you, because I know the value of hard work. I’ve had to earn everything I’ve got--I wasn’t just handed it on a silver platter--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance reached across Keith to where Hunk was holding out a plate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More hollandaise?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s jaw snapped open and shut. “Are you making eggs benedict on a hot plate in a dorm room?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Lance said cheerfully, taking a bite. “Care to join?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” Keith said through gritted teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe next time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith really wished he had a soda gun right about now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Keith,” Lance said, walking over and walking close enough to Keith that he could feel the heat radiating off of his distractingly tan body. “Where’s your statue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your statue. Someone as righteous as you must have a statue of themselves somewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh lord help him, he was going to fucking kill this boy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen here, fuckwit.” Keith poked at Lance’s bare chest. “There’s a difference between being righteous and being right, and I happen to be right. Now could you please put on a shirt or something!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance gave a smug grin. “Why? Like what you see?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith couldn’t stop the noise of frustration that left his mouth. “Just drop the class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you better be there and be prepared.” Keith shoved Lance’s shoulder on his way out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think he actually meant that?” Lance asked, flopping down onto the armchair and forlornly picking at his breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his attempted nonchalance, those words really did hurt. Yes, Lance did come from a place of privilege, but his life wasn’t easy by any means. It was the whole reason he wanted to get out. Yet, remembering Keith’s words about responsibility, Lance couldn’t help but feel stripped bare in more ways than one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He really did seem pretty upset,” Hunk said, turning off the hot plate. “I mean, you probably should have gone to lab today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hunk!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? I’m just saying, you do actually need to pass this class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stupid core requirements,” Lance muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hunk said casually, flipping off the hot plate and sitting down with his own breakfast, “by the way, you’re eating the last of your money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk gave Lance a pitying look. “Room and board, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance threw his head back and groaned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hunk,” he whined, “what am I supposed to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hunk shrugged, polishing off the last of his breakfast. “You could get a job?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance groaned again. Where the hell was a prince supposed to get a job?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh for fuck’s sake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance looked up from where he was squinting at one of the food tickets, trying to remember where exactly table twelve was, to see Keith piercing him with a glare that probably should have vaporized him on the spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh hi Keith!” Lance said cheerily, pretending he hadn’t seen the hatred smoldering behind his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You used me as a reference?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He winced. Okay, Lance felt a little bad about that, but really, what was he supposed to do? His resume mostly consisted of an impressive number of language skills and absolutely no practical experience, and when he remembered the “Help Wanted” sign outside of the bar he and Hunk had been to, well. He needed this job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Keith!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith and Lance turned to see Allura leaning against the door to her office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You hired this guy?” Keith pointed a thumb in Lance’s direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yes, and he said he came highly recommended from you, so I’m putting you in charge of his training.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance didn’t miss the way Keith worked his jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Do I have to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Don’t worry, I’m paying you overtime, now go. He’s already delivered food to the wrong tables. Twice.” With that, Allura vanished back into her office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance gave what he hoped was a charming smile and a shrug. It really was nice of Allura to hire him, even if she was a bit on the scary side. When she’d seen Lance’s resume, she began talking with him in the Altean creole, and Lance was delighted. Honestly, that was probably part of why she even gave him a chance to begin with, given that it was clear he had absolutely no work experience at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He hadn’t anticipated saddling Keith with his training, though, but he wasn’t about to let a little hostility ruin his day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Are you deliberately trying to make my life miserable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Not on purpose, no,” Lance said, attempting to balance plates of chili cheese fries on his arms. “It’s just a pleasant side-effect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith slammed a tray on the counter and grabbed the food from Lance, piling it up. “Well, you’re doing an excellent job of it. It wasn’t enough that you had to ruin my one required class, but you’re invading my place of work, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance watched as Keith hefted the tray, taking mental notes on how to balance it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He hadn’t really thought about how Keith would feel if he was forced to spend even more time with Lance, and the small bit of guilt that had settled in his stomach began worming its way through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Listen,” Lance said, keeping his voice soft and sincere, “I realize I’ve taken advantage of you. But the truth is, I need this job if I want to stay. Just give me a chance, and if I keep making things difficult for you, say the word and I’ll quit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith paused and gave Lance a long, hard look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Alright,” he said finally. “One chance. But you have to show up to chem lab too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Deal,” Lance said, smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Wonderful, now deliver these to the booth in the corner,” Keith said, thrusting the tray at Lance, who fumbled with it but somehow managed not to spill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“But--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Calm down, [NICKNAME],” Keith said, shoving him along. “I’m coming with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh thank god.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“It’s three meters!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>Despite Lance’s admittedly rocky start, by the end of his shift, Lance had managed to spill only two drinks, and he now knew exactly where table twelve was. So, you know, progress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>The bar closed with minimal fanfare, Hunk deciding to wait on the bench outside while Lance and Keith wiped down tables and flipped chairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He watched in curiosity as Allura walked up to Keith, handing him a token. “Your turn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith gave a little smile, the first Lance had seen since the night he was possessed by a sleazeball and fucked up any chance he’d had, and walked over to the jukebox in the corner, inserting the token and selecting a song.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance smiled as the sounds of Springsteen’s “Hungry Heart” filtered through the old speakers. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d stopped wiping down the table, because there was Keith, kicking his shoes off and dancing on the just-mopped floor. It was just a simple step-tap, Keith not even letting go of his spray bottle of cleaning solution, but Lance was mesmerized. Keith looked different when he wasn’t scowling at anything and everything. He looked...not happy exactly, but calm. Less like he was prepared to fight everyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lance,” Allura said, and Lance looked up to see her holding up one of the mats from the kitchen. “Go out back and spray these down for me, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance nodded, turning back to glance at Keith before turning back and grabbing the surprisingly heavy rubber mat and heading out the back door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance was crouching, giving the mats the most thorough hosing down he could, when--</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance looked up to see Keith standing on the sidewalk, his hair escaping the ponytail and brushing his cheeks gently in the soft breeze. He had his hands shoved his his pockets, and he was biting his lip, as if he wanted to say more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Hi,” Lance breathed, stopping the hose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You did okay in there,” Keith said in a rush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance dropped the mat. “You can’t be serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well, if by okay, you mean spilling a ton of beer and messing up everyone’s orders…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance laughed, the sound startling and bright even to his own ears. “Oh good, for a second I thought I just heard you compliment me, and I was ready to believe you’d been bodysnatched.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith chuckled and looked down. Lance relished the sound, and he couldn’t help thinking that Keith had a very pretty laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No, you’ll be fine,” Keith said finally, meeting Lance’s eyes once again before starting to walk away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Keith, wait.” Lance wasn’t sure what exactly possessed him at that moment, but he scrambled up, his knees somewhat shaky for some unfathomable reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith stopped, turning back and meeting Lance’s gaze with those deep blues and tilting his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I--well, uh, I guess…” Lance started, his words stumbling as he jogged up to Keith, hit with nerves the likes of which he couldn’t even remember having. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Lance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“There’s a dorm party,” Lance finally managed to get out. “This Saturday, at my dorm, and I was...well, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>An amused smile flashed across Keith’s face. “Accompany you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance blinked. “Oh, right, um, too formal. How do you Americans say it? Yo, there’s a sick rager this weekend, do you wanna come chill with me?” He shot Keith a couple of finger guns for good measure, though one hand was still covered in an oversized yellow cleaning glove and maybe, possibly, kind of ruined the image.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith, dare he say, giggled. “Okay that was just sad. Don’t ever do that again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance refused to be embarrassed, not after it got him such a soft smile. “Yes, well, the point still stands. Would you want to come with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith didn’t say anything for a long while, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously, and a kind of war behind his eyes. Lance’s heart was in his throat as he watched him struggle, but he swallowed and held his chin out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I’m...I’m actually kinda busy,” Keith finally said, and he turned and continued to make his way down the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance watched after him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling deep in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh dear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance turned to see Hunk walking up to him, a sympathetic expression on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I think you just got rejected,” Hunk said, and Lance gave him a sad smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You know, I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, well, you’ve never been attracted to someone who didn’t know you were a prince before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance turned to gaze at Keith’s retreating figure, really no more than a hazy silhouette in the distance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“All part of the experience, I guess,” Lance said. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>come to the states to get away from everything, to figure out who he was when he wasn’t being Crown Prince Lorenzo Estebán Osvaldo. And while this feeling of rejection that sat in his gut wasn’t pleasant, Lance found himself not wanting to trade it for anything. He found himself quite liking the way Keith looked at him--demanding that Lance earn his respect, not simply giving it because of some title.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>And Lance was going to do his damn best to deserve it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
  <span>To say that the semester was not going according to plan would be the understatement of the century. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith had decided early on that he wanted to take an advanced Spanish course to brush up on his skills. He’d been good in high school and, growing up at least partly at the community center had given him a solid foundation, but he’d vastly underestimated just how much he’d forgotten in four years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>So, when he got his first essay back, a C- written on it in glaring red marker, he was about ready to cry. His scholarships depended on a certain GPA, and while normally that wouldn’t be an issue, the fact that he was attempting to get his Master’s as well made the situation rather dire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>That, of course, was how he managed to find himself asking for help from the last person on earth he’d expected to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“So,” Keith started while fiddling with the Bunsen burner, startling Lance out of whatever his most recent daydream was. True to his word, Lance had started showing up to lab, though he was happy to let Keith take the lead, especially after a disastrous incident where he almost added water to acid. Since then, Keith had taken charge and they’d spent most of the time in silence, which was fine by him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>But it made this conversation particularly difficult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You know how the other day, you apologized to me in Spanish?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance narrowed his eyes but nodded. “Yeah, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Well, it’s funny because I’m kind of taking an advanced Spanish class, and, well, I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>struggling</span>
  </em>
  <span> exactly, but I haven’t taken Spanish since high school and--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You need help?” Lance asked, and Keith regretted the moment he glanced up because then he was forced to see the shit-eating grin on Lance’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No, I don’t need </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Keith said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Oh, okay,” Lance said, turning back to his notebook. “It just sounded like you were asking for help, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith worked his jaw. That grin and that insufferable ego made Keith want to forget the whole thing entirely. He could do it on his own, couldn’t he? </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Then, he thought about his scholarship and the horrid feeling of disappointment he felt when he saw his grade, and--</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Okay, fine, I’m asking you for help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Lance’s grin widened, and Keith was already beginning to regret this. “Sure, I’d be happy to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith nodded and went back to the experiment. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“No problem,” Lance said. “Though, I might need some help of my own first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Keith narrowed his eyes. “What kind of help are we talking?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You seriously never learned how to do laundry?” Keith asked as he helped Lance sort through his clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me a break,” Lance said, pausing to hold up a purple shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith pointed to the pile of reds in front of the machine, and Lance tossed it in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never had to before,” he continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith rolled his eyes and said, only a little jokingly, “Let me guess, you had servants to do that for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance flushed and looked away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes widened. “Wait a second, did you really have servants?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance smiled sheepishly. “Maids, yes. My family’s...well-off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance shrugged, continuing to sort. “Clearly, it’s done me a lot of good. I can’t even do my own laundry. Did you know that the bar is the first real job I’ve ever had?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gee,” Keith said, unable to hide a smile, “never would have guessed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance and Keith finished sorting, and Keith showed him how to load the wash and how much detergent to add. Admittedly, Lance was a fast learner, and Keith felt relieved that he didn’t have to repeat instructions. He pressed the settings on the wash and stood back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said, brushing his hands off. “My turn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance leaned against the folding table at the side of the room, a strange look on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’re not fluent in Spanish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s brow scrunched up and he shook his head. “What? No, of course I’m fluent. And I’m fluent in six other languages too, thank you very much. I just...well, I wanted to apologize for the other night. I realized that my advances might have made you uncomfortable, and for that I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith flushed. He’d thought that they had a tacit agreement not to bring </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> up, considering Lance hadn’t mentioned it before now. Truth be told, Keith wasn’t upset by that at all. In fact, he was a bit flattered. But it was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lance</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his overly obnoxious, perpetually late lab partner, and the guy who thought that insulting his hair and hitting on him in his place of work was a good idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he wasn’t attracted to him, no matter how pretty his eyes were or how slender his hands or how sculpted his biceps. Nope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Lance said, not letting the silence sit for long, “I also didn’t mean to assume you were into dudes or anything, I just kind of go for it and I—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no you’re assumption’s spot on. I’m gay. That’s not why I said no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith didn’t miss the note of disappointment in his voice, the way Lance seemed to nod to himself. Part of him wanted to take pity on the guy, let him down gently and tell him that he said no because he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> busy on Saturday, but that wouldn’t have been the truth. The truth was, Keith didn’t know how he felt. More importantly, he didn’t know how he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to feel. This guy comes in and starts messing with his life, putting his grade and his job in jeopardy and then turning around and helping him with no other expectations, and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>apologizing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of self-interest, Keith had steered away from rich guys. Usually, they were just looking for a discreet hookup, only to don the mask once again afterwards and pretend he didn’t exist. He was pretty sure Lance wasn’t the type, but still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance cleared his throat, startling Keith out of his cycle of thoughts. “Well, the point still stands. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith gave a little smile in spite of himself. “Thanks, Lance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, about that Spanish…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite first impressions, Lance was an excellent Spanish tutor, which was why Keith continued to go to him for help. Unfortunately, as a consequence, Keith’s pronunciation became “bafflingly obscure,” according to his professor, but he didn’t mind when his grades steadily improved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance, on the other hand, was still a terrible lab partner. He overtitrated on a regular basis because, and this was an exact quote, “the color is just so pretty, Keith, I can’t help it.” He was never late again, however, and though Keith tried to stop it, he found himself rather endeared by how badly Lance continued to mess up. It seemed that the professor took pity on Keith, too, if his grades on his lab reports were any indication. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith wouldn’t say that he and Lance grew close exactly, but seeing someone three times a week tended to make you at least tolerant of a person, and so when he got his next Spanish exam back, the big red A seeming much more cheery and less foreboding than the C- before, he didn’t even think before rushing over to the bar where Lance was working an early afternoon shift, a confused Pidge following not far behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he had memorized his schedule or anything. He just happened to remember that Lance worked on Thursdays.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We did it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance looked up from where he was wiping down glasses behind the bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did what? Am I in trouble again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No--it’s my Spanish midterm.” Keith held out the blue book, and Lance grinned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s amazing, Keith! I’m really, really happy for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith felt the smile on his face turn into something really, really bright. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him, Pidge coughed, and Keith glanced back to glare at her. To be honest, he had sort of forgotten she was there. They’d just gotten done with lunch when Keith had swung by his professor’s office to pick up his exam, and he should have known she’d follow him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously,” Keith said, turning back to Lance, “thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was no trouble,” Lance said. “My pleasure, really. It was nice having someone to speak Spanish with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith felt his smile mirror the soft one he saw on Lance’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Lance,” Pidge said, peering out from behind Keith.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Pidge,” Lance said, giving her a little wave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge hadn’t stopped haunting Keith at the bar, and, in spite of Keith’s best efforts, she finally managed to introduce herself to Lance. Thus, the worst friendship </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been born. Mostly, it consisted of Lance giving Pidge an endless supply of fries and bowls of peanuts to throw at Keith or annoying customers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Keith had thought that maybe, just maybe, Pidge would see that anything between him and Lance was a bad idea, all that hope had been dashed the moment she realized that Keith was going to Lance for Spanish help, and that Lance had actually asked Keith on a date and he had said no.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Lance…” Pidge began, and let the record show that Keith did not like her tone one bit, “any plans for Thanksgiving?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as Keith’s Danger Meter was telling him Pidge was planning something nefarious and not to take his eyes off of her, he couldn’t help but stare as he awaited Lance’s answer. He’d been wondering that himself, given that Lance clearly wasn’t from around here and probably didn’t have much family in the area.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, Lance shrugged, putting the last of the clean glasses onto the shelf underneath the bar. “I was just going to stay here, maybe catch up on some reading.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith tried not to hiss in pain as a particularly bony elbow connected with his side. He glared at Pidge, who waggled her eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith shook his head, and Pidge waggled her eyebrows some more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, anyway,” he said, snapping his gaze back up to Lance’s once again, “I won’t keep bothering you while you’re working, I just wanted to say thanks for, you know...this.” He lifted up the blue book again, as if that would excuse the fact that he’d practically sprinted from the other side of campus to tell him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The awkward gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Pidge, but Keith ignored her snickers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Lance said, smiling gently. “Thanks for not killing me in chem lab.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You don’t make it easy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, you like the challenge.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith felt the corner of his mouth quirk up despite himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you, Lance,” he said, raising a hand in farewell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye, Lance,” Pidge called out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance saluted them, and turned to get back to work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they had almost made it to the door, Pidge stopped and looked Keith in the eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should ask him to come home with you for Thanksgiving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pidge rolled her eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s gonna be all alone here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>reading</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith shrugged. He wasn’t sure what the big deal was—plenty of students didn’t go home for Thanksgiving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really my problem,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, so you won’t mind if I invite him to my house? He can meet Matt. They’d probably hit it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith shuddered at the thought. Pidge’s brother was even more of an incurable flirt than Lance, and while brilliant, could be more than a little obnoxious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Keith could stop her, Pidge had bounced back up to the bar, leaning over the counter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Lance, I was wondering, since you didn’t have any plans, if—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’d like to come to my place for Thanksgiving.” Keith didn’t remember making the conscious decision to run up to the bar and ask Lance to come home with him, but he wasn’t convinced he was in full control of his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The astonished look on Lance’s face almost made the humiliation worth it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Outline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is my outline for the fic, in case you're interested to see where it would have gone!</p>
<p>Or you could just watch the movie lol. It's pretty much exactly that</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alejandro [COME UP WITH A RIDICULOUSLY LONG NAME] is an irresponsible playboy crown prince of a small country, the only son of the true king and queen (though with many half-brothers and sisters whom he considers his full siblings). He basks in the spotlight, pulling crazy stunts and causing scandals wherever he goes, especially considering that he refuses to hide his bisexuality.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His parents and siblings put their collective foot down, and he’s forced to make a change. He decides to go to a large state school in Texas (probs UT Austin, let’s be honest) and get a degree in International Relations, but mostly party his royal ass off. Hunk, his bodyguard, comes with posing as his roommate, and he decides to go by Lance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then there’s Keith, who’s a hard working physics student who’s decent at chemistry, but he mostly just needs some extra credits in order to graduate. He’s always kept his head down, not really doing much beyond school, but he’s worked really hard to get where he is. He’s a farm boy (farmboy...fetch me that pitcher?) who’s just trying to do right by his older brother (vet, lost his arm on a tour, background shiro/adam). He wants to join the Blade of Marmora, a group of people who work with disadvantaged kids to get them into good educational programs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before the first day of classes, Lance is at one of the local bars and makes a sleazy comment towards Keith, who sprays him with the hose. Keith doesn’t know who he is, of course, and Lance finds it refreshing but also he’s a bit miffed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>First day of classes. Keith walks in to see the only seat available in the lab section is next to Lance. Keith’s beyond frustrated. Lance is a less than adequate lab partner, constantly messing up and dropping things (one time he accidentally added water to acid, he consistently overtitrates (BUT THE COLOR IS SO PRETTY KEITH), he still struggles with redox). Keith just wants to get through this semester.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately for Keith, he also has to pass a Spanish course in order to get his degree, and it definitely isn’t his strong suit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Lance thought his degree would be a cakewalk. However, he didn’t account for the distribution requirements, and he’s stuck in a mid-level chemistry course, and he’s struggling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They agree to help each other out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually they grow closer, and by the time Thanksgiving break rolls around, Keith at least pities Lance, and he invites Lance back home for Thanksgiving, not admitting to himself that it’s at least partially because he likes him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance gets along swimmingly with the people in the town--he even helps Shiro fix up the racing lawnmower. He charms the pants off of Kolivan, etc etc etc, long story short Keith and Lance end up making out in the barn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>End act one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They return to school, and there’s some desperately unresolved sexual tension, and they’re trying to study for finals, but Hunk and Pidge know what’s going on, and Pidge kicks Keith until Keith drags Lance up to the stacks for a hookup.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is the moment photographers burst in, and Lance runs, dragging Keith (with his shirt half-on) outside, and it’s pouring rain when Lance explains who he is. Keith is understandably upset, and walks away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lance gets sent back home, and he’s talking with Veronica, trying to tell her how Keith was different, and while she believes him, their parents don’t, and Lance returns to his duties, a bit more responsible and somber.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith throws himself into his studies, and he’s miserable, and finally his Spanish final comes around, and he ends up rambling in Spanish about Lance being a phenomenal kisser, and comes to a realization, and Pidge helps him pack and fly off to Lance’s country spontaneously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith arrives, and he’s in time to see the royal parade, and Lance spots him, pulling him up onto the horse with him, and they ride to the palace. Keith is swept up with everything, and he’s charmed by Lance’s family, as they are by him, but it’s a strange place. Keith’s in clothes he didn’t pick out himself, told how to eat, and he feels like he’s doing everything wrong. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, there’s a coronation ball in Lance’s honor, and Lance sweeps Keith off his feet, proposing, and pulling him off to a hidden room, and they’re about to hook up when some others walk in, and Lance has to talk politics, and Keith’s left alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Keith decides this life isn’t for him, and leaves that night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Insert convo about Lance’s people needing him)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>End act two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith goes back and works harder to graduate, and he does, and he gets into grad school, and he’s planning on completing his master’s in education. Lance shows up with the ring Keith left behind. (“It’s still yours, you know.”). Keith throws himself into Lance’s arms, smiling into his neck. “I’m not letting you go again.”</span>
</p>
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